


The Showdown

by Covetous (orphan_account)



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Kink Meme, M/M, PWP, blowjob, roleplaying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-09 21:38:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5556473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Covetous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Owain and male Morgan. Justice Cabal roleplay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Showdown

**Author's Note:**

> Too fun to pass up, really. These boys are so cute to write, even when doing sexual things. Warning: blowjobs, role-playing and some very slight masochistic tendencies on Morgan’s side. (I headcanon him a little fucked up, though it is not much and everything is very happy-go-lucky and consensual)

 

“Prepare yourself!” Owain cried out theatrically as soon as the flap of Morgan’s tent closed behind him.

Morgan looked up from his book, not catching his drift. “Did you mean that literally, or…?” He asked, but Owain shook his head, a suggestive smile on his face. With two large steps, he closed the distance between the two of them, yanked the book out of Owain’s hands and started undoing the straps that held Morgan’s cloak together. That was when it dawned upon Morgan what was going on. “Oh, right.. No, it is you who should prepare yourself for my next attack, you fiend!”

Owain snorted, looking appalled at the accusation. “The evil sorcerer Morgan, fellblooded future king of Plegia, calls me a feint? What an outlandish accusation!” He exclaimed loud enough for the entire camp to hear. It didn’t matter if they did, when they spoke like this people tended to ignore them, and that was perfectly fine with Morgan. The title Owain rewarded him with today was a little painful but he let it slide: the man certainly meant no harm by it, if the way he was wiggling out of his own robes meant something. “I, Owain of the exalted house of Ylisse, shall not stand for it!”

If something could be said about Owain, it was that he was eager. His fingers were cold on his skin, as he expertly undid him of his robe, leaving the simple tactician’s tank top on. The second his neck was bared, Owain’s lips latched onto his pulse, and Morgan couldn’t suppress the groan that bubbled up. He nipped at the juncture of his neck, a little too roughly sometimes, and Morgan knew he would have bruises tomorrow. But it didn’t matter, oh it sure didn’t matter when it felt this good. Every touch of lips and teeth on hot bared skin sent shivers up his spine and blood up his penis. He was already getting hot and bothered, and Owain had barely touched him.

 “Your t-technique has truly improved since our last-ah!” Morgan tried to continue, but it was hard to stay coherent when Owain’s hands started to trail under his shirt, brushing his nipples slightly, teasingly, every so often. “Battle.” He breathed out heavily, and Owain flashed him a cocky smile.

“You are truly a worthy adversary as well, but you shall fall to the sword hand of the mighty Owain!” He boasted, and too late did Morgan realize what he meant by that. With little grace, the man stuffed his hands in his pants and started touching him through his underwear. Even with the layer of cloth between them, Morgan’s brain nearly fogged over from the sensatory overload.

Morgan lets out a soft whine from the back of his throat and yanks Owain up to, smashing their lips together. Owain’s hands on his chest still for a moment, and ever the tactician, he takes immediate advantage of the weakness presented to him. Without abandon, he explores Owain’s mouth, noting how he tastes like sweets he must have stolen from the kitchen tent before he came here. His hands trail up the man’s sides, caressing every hard angle and muscle with feather-like touches. Owain’s body is sculpted to perfection from the obsessive training he does every day to a fault, and the sweet tastes of  his lips on his are the perfect contrast that form up this strange, pleasant man that he calls his lover.

When they break apart, Owain’s smile is positively feral, and he kisses Morgan lightly, once, twice, what seems like a million times. Morgan’s aching – and not just between his legs-  for something more. Perhaps it’s his Plegian blood or just a personal preference, but he likes the nearly painful pleasure of Owain’s touches. These light kisses barely brush the surface of his desire, and with a groan he grinds himself against Owain’s still fully clothed leg.

“Don’t tell me you’re admitting defeat already, Hero of Yore!” Morgan provokes him, trailing a hand of his own over Owain’s leg, dangerously close to the bulge that is barely visible though his robes.

“Au contraire, my eternal enemy!” Owain replied, a hazy edge in his voice. “I am merely charging up for my latest technique, and now it is done, you shall witness it! Cower in fear, for Owain is here!”

Before Morgan could reply to that, he was pulled out of his field chair, quickly undone of his pants and pushed against his own desk, face first. Owain quickly pressed himself against him, allowing Morgan to feel the curve of his own erection grinding into him. One hand pinned his own to the desk, while the other quickly found its grip around his dick, this time without the additional layer of cloth.

Morgan cried out as it came to him all at once: the weight against his back, giving him no chance to escape; the erratic movement of Owain’s calloused hands over his member, making him see stars; the dirty words his lover whispered into his ear, promising of one hell of a ride if only he would ‘forsaken the forces of evil’.

Owain could have recited one of his mother’s strategy books to him and he would still be moaning his name like a tarquel in heat: it was his voice, sultry, maddening and yet boyish, that set him to the brink. He struggled a bit against Owain, if only to please the man. He liked their mock fights, even in the bedroom, and without fail Owain grinded harsher against his bare ass, his own pants coming starting to come loose from the continued friction.

“Oh gods, Owain, don’t stop that…” He bit out when Owain’s hand adopted a frantic pace, unable to keep quiet any longer. A profound heat started to coil in his chest, making him breathless and oh so starved for release. It was close, so close he could almost touch it! “Ah!” He cried out forlornly when the pressure on his back seized, and with it, the hand that was pleasuring him.

“Not so fast, you evil sorcerer!” Owain cried out from behind him, his face flushed bright red. Morgan slumped down on his desk, hoping it could bare his weight a bit longer. He had been so close! But Owain had always been somebody to draw things out, and it was usually worth it in the end.  “Our battle cannot end prematurely, we must fight until the break of dawn, until our swords are blunted from the force of our battle!” Morgan turned around after he had caught his breath, to see Owain almost done undressing himself. The man always folded his own clothing, albeit not too neatly, and for once Morgan was ready for the small respite it earned him.

Upon seeing Owain’s rigid length, a wicked idea came to him. He lifted himself to his shaky legs and dropped down in front of his lover, unleashing a battle cry with great fervor. “Then, witness in awe, my new, ultimate attack!”

Before Owain could reply to that statement, Morgan opened his mouth and took Owain’s dick in his mouth suckling on the tip. His lover struggled for breath, and even with the penis in his mouth, Morgan smiled, feeling Owain buck and writhe into his mouth. Carefully, he swirled his tongue over the edge of the bulbous tip, moving forward and backwards carefully.

It didn’t take Owain too long to regain his bravado. “What is this sorcery! You cannot seduce me, you incubus!” Morgan looked up at Owain when he said that, dick still in his mouth, drool and precum dripping down his lips. The look on Owain’s face was worth gold: the man stopped mid-sentence and groaned loudly, his member pulsing ever so slightly in his mouth. Morgan noted it down as a victory in his head and continued to move down his lover’s length, slowly, agonizingly.

“F-For I, the great Owain, am i-incorruptible. My ancient bloodline grants me the power to forever hold my calm! No one can-ah!” Owain’s attempt at regaining the high ground were in vain as Morgan unleashed his ‘ultimate attack’ and suddenly dove forward, taking Owain’s entire length into his mouth and down his throat. The thick base made his jaw stretch uncomfortably and his breathing was cut off, but it was all worth it when Owain doubled over and cried his name passionately. Quickly, Morgan set a tantalizing place, moving all the way back until only the very tip was still between his lips, before shooting forward harshly again until his nose was buried in soft pubic hair. Owain positively howled with every trust, grabbing Morgan’s own dark locks and pushing himself in even deeper. His fingers were like a vice grip around his head, forcing him into a punishing rhythem while Owain fucked his face like there was no tomorrow.

It hurt, but in a good way. He liked the slight ache in the back of his troath, the tinge in his jaw and the nails digging in his skull. Maybe it was fucked up to almost get off Owain screaming while he lost himself within his mouth, but Morgan had never claimed to be sane. It quicky became too much for both of them, and Owain’s dick started pulsing in his thoat after one, final thrust. Owain tried to push him back, but Morgan held on, allowing his seed to fill his mouth. The taste was salt, and yet also a bit sweet, just like Owain. Eagerly, he coaxed all the cum out of him, his eyes still fixed on Owain’s beautiful face contorted in passion.

When Owain was done, he fell to the ground, groaning loudly. “Holy Fuck Morgan, how do you fit all of that in there!” He panted out after a short rest.

Morgan smiled deviously, his dick still painfully hard. “Alas, my eternal opponent,” He teased, his voice raw from the abuse his throat had gladly taken, and straddled Owain’s waist, enjoying the way he watched his own semen dripped from his lips. He placed his adversary’s ‘sword hand’ on his own ‘sword’, and coaxed him into setting a pace. “I cannot reveal my secret technique, not even to you!”

Owain laughed at that, and kissed him gently. Morgan knew their fight might not continue until the break of dawn, but if Owain’s already darkening eyes were anything to go by, they would at least be busy fighting for the next hour.

Such was the duty of a true hero, or so Morgan reminded Owain.


End file.
